


Static

by interabang



Category: Heroes (TV 2006)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Episode: s01e20 Five Years Gone, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-22
Updated: 2009-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28606491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interabang/pseuds/interabang
Summary: Sylar's perspective before, during, and after the events inFive Years Gone.
Relationships: Nathan!Sylar/Mohinder





	Static

He doesn’t take the power for granted, not ever, not even for one second. This structure, that Petrelli had unknowingly forged for him to overtake, could crumble at any moment.

This is why Sylar constantly remains on guard.

In dark, cold cells, Sylar visits the people Matt Parkman brings to him from a reliable source. Their names run through his mind like ticker tape. They represent insignificant, but colorful additions to his vast collection of abilities: Walker, Sanders, Redhouse, and so on, and so on. God may have mercy on their souls once Sylar is through with them, but after he expands his mind-tricks to the guards, no one on Earth (save for Sylar), should be able to find out what happened to the dead Specials.

Sylar keeps Mohinder close by as much as he can. Parkman and the Haitian are of use to him, and their disappearances would be harder to cover up – but Dr. Suresh actually _interests_ Sylar. The way his eyes light up when he starts talking about his research while running his hands through his unruly hair, how he seems to forget everything in the face of his experiments... Sylar has to avoid grinning to himself while he watches the other man pace back and forth, back and forth in the Oval Office.

He realizes, once again, that people don’t change. Not really. Mohinder is the same excitable, determined scientist he’d been when Sylar first met him.

And Sylar? He’s still the one in control, just like he’d always wanted to be.

“Mohinder,” he says quietly, interrupting the other man’s rambling. Sylar gets up out of the chair behind his desk, just like Nathan would have.

“Look, I appreciate that you want to break the whole process down for me, but I’m a little pressed for time. I need answers. Can you give me some?”

Mohinder falters. He licks his lips, breaking eye contact with the man he thinks is the President.

“There are still… tests I need to perform,” he finally responds. “I have to admit, there’s still a long way to go, but I —”

“— You’ll figure it out,” Sylar replies shortly. He takes the few steps over to the couch in which Mohinder sits, and he puts a reassuring hand on Mohinder’s shoulder.

Mohinder looks up when he senses the touch. _His beard is growing_ , Sylar notices with faint amusement. Little things change, here and there, but for the most part…

“Get some sleep,” he tells Mohinder. “You look like you need some.”

* * *

Sylar insists to himself, over and over again, that he still understands the bigger picture. He knows that one day, he’ll have to give the order to eradicate all the other Specials in the world, and that order may wind up severing the bond he shares with Mohinder now. Understanding that helps him rationalize his feelings for Mohinder, but he still can’t help himself. It’s a hard force to deny, this pull that Suresh has on him, even after five years.

He rubs his hand over his face. Pinches the bridge of his nose, sticking to the illusion. He’s _not_ letting his guard down, he’s _not_. To do so would be suicidal, especially with those idiot rebels still running around.

Yet, whenever Heidi tells him that she’s going on a trip somewhere, off to some foreign country with Petrelli’s two boys, Sylar always second-guesses himself. It wouldn’t be _too_ terrible to keep taking these risks of his, not if he’s discreet about it - and he already has perfected the art of being discreet.

The first time he’d found Mohinder, it had been awkward. So awkward. Sylar remembers it all. He started to leave, but Suresh reached out, taking hold of his wrist, and after that, everything was all a blur: wetness, heat, clothing being brushed aside, the amplified sound of Mohinder’s moans, the _click_ of Sylar flicking off the light switch, the sensation of cupping Mohinder’s rough-textured chin…

Despite all of that, things between them are awkward, still. At first, Sylar assumes this is all due to Mohinder’s inability to slow down and work out the logic of being attracted to Nathan Petrelli, and discovering how mutual the attraction is. However, that theory doesn't seem quite right, not in light of that first encounter; Sylar bringing Mohinder to orgasm as they both lay on the cold, cold floor in the lab.

That same sense of unease follows Sylar, even as he continues to meet Mohinder in the dark while Heidi and the children are away. Sylar wonders if the uncomfortable tension between them is mostly due to this farce he created, the face he wears every day, but he presses on despite his doubts.

Mohinder comes, over and over again, but Sylar always makes sure to pull himself back from the brink. He holds his own release at bay, focusing on the sobering image of what Mohinder’s face would look like if he found himself staring at Sylar instead of Nathan.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Mohinder asks him one night. Sylar is already back in his suit and straightening his tie. He’s distracted. Wondering if the illusion he has set up in Nathan’s _real_ bedroom will continue to hold. It had been difficult for him tonight, concentrating on keeping that false impression steady while he was clumsily trying to penetrate Mohinder.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sylar says back to him shortly, like Nathan would, and he lets himself out before Mohinder can stop him.

* * *

Sex between them is never a beautiful thing. Fascinating, yes. Liberating, in a way, though it can’t be _too_ cathartic, or Suresh would try to kill him again. When they meet outside the White House, the air is exponentially charged; the sex is rough, and intense, and in a way, almost desperate.

But not beautiful.

Sylar uses his hands the most. It reminds him of the days in the watch shop, but the hands that touch Mohinder aren’t his long, bony ones with the too-short fingernails. He grips Mohinder’s cock with a hand that’s not his own, one that could never repair timepieces, and he bites his lower lip in frustration, pumping his hand up and down until Mohinder throws his head back, groaning as he spills over Nathan’s – _Sylar’s_ – knuckles.

Mohinder arches his back as Sylar nudges his prostate. Though he can be vocal, he tries to stay as quiet as he can. Sylar, on the other hand, is silent the whole time, working his fingers in and out with all the patience in the world.

When he leaves, there is no psychological shift. The sense of power – having it, using it, wanting more of it – is always there. However, in the corner of his mind, Sylar isn’t sure if that is his driving force, or if his secret meetings with Mohinder are.

* * *

He can feel it. He doesn’t know exactly how he can, but _it’s_ there all the same: that sense of foreboding.

Something is coming. Something that will threaten his power. It’ll probably have to do with Nakamura. Peter might also be involved. Sylar gives Parkman the order to raid the teleporter’s usual haunts in New York City. It _would_ be nice to finally get a hold of the little man and his ability, after all this time.

Mohinder makes less and less progress with his research. Sylar can see it in the scientist’s eyes, in the way he rakes his fingers through his hair more aggressively when they’re together in the Oval Office. Mohinder doesn’t make any real conclusions, but Sylar knows that he’ll be making a final report soon. Sylar will be ready for it with his backup plan. Soon, he’ll have it all. He assures himself that he’ll have Nakamura and the other Petrelli locked up. He imagines taking their abilities, finally being able to wield them, and when all the others have been exterminated, he can finally show Mohinder his true face.

The last time, Mohinder fucks him. Slowly, but not _too_ slowly. Sylar maintains a steady rhythm of breathing as Mohinder slides out, then in again. Sylar rewords his plan multiple times to keep himself from losing his edge. He doesn’t tell Mohinder anything, even though he wants to, with a sense of urgency that claws at the borders of his control.

Concerned, Mohinder watches him as he stands up and moves over to the closet, then takes out out Nathan’s suit. Sylar ignores Mohinder. He can’t return the gaze, or launch into that long talk he’s been planning for days, months, _years_...

Not now. There are still many things to do before Sylar can say everything he’s always wanted to, ever since the day they met in Zane Taylor’s home. When Sylar had pretended to be yet another person in order to get close to Mohinder.

They both dress themselves in silence.

“You should get some sleep,” he remarks, heading out of Mohinder’s apartment.

* * *

He tells Mohinder a story as he sits down. A story about a boy who sucked all of the air out of his school.

It stops the doctor cold.

Sylar had known that, sooner or later, it was all going to come down to this - this moment in his office, explaining to Mohinder what has to be done. He’d known it since the day he took Nathan’s life.

Yet he can’t shake the feeling that everything is working out so easily in his favor.

 _No_ , Sylar berates himself, _it’s going to work. Everything will follow through, and Mohinder is going to help pave the way for a new world._

It might take Sylar more time to bring Mohinder on board, but Sylar reminds himself once more that he is a patient man.

* * *

His patience runs out by the time he makes it to the loft.

That damn loft. He remembers it all, like those events had just happened a few hours ago: killing the painter, the human bomb…

He pushes and prods at Mohinder in the ways only he knows how. This time, though, it’s all about Mohinder’s morality, juxtaposed with how far he’ll go to prove his loyalty. Sylar throws him a calculated look in order to receive the response that he knows Suresh would eventually give him. He breathes easier after getting the confirmation aloud, though. Now there is no doubt in his mind that Mohinder is going to kill the anomaly in their world, this second Hiro Nakamura.

After that, all of the other pieces will click right back into place. They're already doing just that. Parkman says that the cheerleader is in the mansion; after Sylar finishes taking her power, Nathan Petrelli has a ceremony to attend before releasing his executive decision about those individuals with abilities.

Then, somehow, in ways that Sylar refuses to comprehend, all his brilliant plans begin to fall apart.

* * *

He knows better than to fly away from Ground Zero, in front of hundreds of citizens. Not when he’s worked so hard to get in this position of power.

He still pushes himself up toward the sky without hesitating. He doesn’t care anymore. Let the guards handle the crowds, while he goes off to handle Peter.

When he’s in the hallway, he files away all his thoughts of Mohinder as he stalks over to Petrelli, who’s down on the ground and just as pathetic as ever. Man’s got a scar on his face now, but underneath the scar, there’s still that same irritating hero complex.

Tilting his head as he calmly strides down the corridor, Sylar makes a snide remark about this moment. What makes it perfect is that Peter already knows, deep down inside, that Nathan is dead, and has been for some time.

 _It’s not over_ , Sylar tells himself. Once Peter has been dealt with, Sylar can re-focus his attention on putting everything else back together again, just like he'd restored the watch that gave him his name.

He lets the illusion fall away.

The look on Peter’s face should be priceless, but even so, Sylar can’t help but be a little disappointed. He’d wanted _Mohinder_ to see the truth first, and to accept it.

No matter. Sylar can always reveal himself to Mohinder at a later time. Now, he throws his arm down, looking forward to killing the empath, once and for all.

Ice envelopes his hand.

" _ **When I killed Nathan, he'd already turned against his own kind**_."

Peter finally snaps.

“ _Liar_ ”, he whispers. He spreads his arms out, his hands bursting into flames.

Sylar smirks, moving forward to close the distance between himself and Peter.

He’s going to win this time.

* * *

When the dust finally settles, Peter’s face can be seen, but barely. It's an unrecognizable mess, with a rusty pipe sticking through what must be his forehead.

Sylar turns around.

He thinks about laughing, at first. Gloating over his victory, sneering down at Peter’s remains – but there’s something in the air. Something…

Sifting through his abilities, Sylar stops when he finds the Walker girl’s power. He lifts his head, drawing in a deep, steadying breath, as he scans the building without needing a map to guide him, and –

No. _No._

Sylar has to fly to get back to the place where the fight had started. The ground on that level had simply yielded under him and Peter as they battled with fire and ice, and the force of their deadly arrays of weapons had sent both of them crashing through several more stories.

Sylar stops when he reaches the right floor, and he lands on his feet carefully, inches away from the jagged concrete and steel.

He runs over to the door, the door he’d pulled Peter through, and slams it open with his telekinesis.

No.

For a while, a long, long while, Sylar can’t comprehend what he sees. The light in the room is out, and the walls are starting to shake, but through his enhanced vision, Sylar can make out a lone figure lying facedown on the ground before him, unmoving.

Unmoving.

Sylar bends down, resting on his haunches. He’s not crying. He’s _not_. He turns the body over, and it’s the damned doctor, his glasses resting broken and twisted on his face. He’s bleeding all over, but Sylar knows that’s it already too late for him.

Mohinder is gone. He’s never going to be able to find out that it was _Sylar_ who wanted him, not Nathan. That it was _Sylar_ all along, and… and…

Sylar slumps forward, onto his knees, next to the dead man. All around him, the building shudders. Concrete, wood, metal, and glass crumble to the floor. The place is going to collapse any moment now.

Through his bleary vision, Sylar looks on as the room begins to fall apart. He can see Nakamura, _this_ timeline’s Hiro, lying on his bleeding stomach a few feet away, and beyond him, the Haitian is almost fully hidden by an enormous slab of concrete.

The Haitian. How did _he_ die?

Sylar peers closer, wiping the wetness – _blood_ , it’s just sweat and blood – away, and when he gets a good look at what used to be the Haitian, Sylar can see an empty syringe lying nearby.

Cracks in the walls begin to split wide open. Sylar reels back from the noises that the building makes as it continues to collapse. He steadies his feet, and looks back down at Mohinder’s body.

 _Of course_ , he realizes. Of course.

In the end, Sylar hadn’t brought Mohinder over to his side. There had been a line, and Suresh chose not to cross it. Sylar may have _believed_ that Mohinder was ready to see things the way Sylar did, but not even the visage of Nathan Petrelli, not even those heated, awkward nights they’d spent together, could do anything to truly convince Mohinder.

Because, despite the little things, people never really change.

Sylar closes his eyes, and waits for the rest of the structure to come crashing down on him.


End file.
